


The Office of Transhuman Migration

by shinealightrose



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chimeras, Cyborgs and Androids, Futuristic, Gen, Humans who are more than humans, Office Workers in Space, Platonic Relationships, This is nothing typical like you've ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/shinealightrose
Summary: Yet another boring day in the office. Or is it?





	The Office of Transhuman Migration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sugar_and_Salt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/gifts).



> Holiday Fic Project #4
> 
> With serious thanks to @Dawn_Phoenix for being my go-to science person, whose ideas basically created this entire fic. Could not and would not have written this otherwise.  
>  
> 
> _**Transhumanism** is a way of thinking about the future that is based on the premise that the human species in its current form does not represent the end of our development but rather a comparatively early phase._ \- [X](http://whatistranshumanism.org/)

_Toc toc toc toc toc t-toc toc toc toc t-toc toc toc t-toc toc t-toc_

Lu Han sighs, pressing his eyelids down and frowning at the abnormality in the systems mechanics.

“Jongin,” he says cleanly, with precise tones. “Please give us a systems report at your nearest convenience. This _brew machine_ is acting up again. Thank you.”

A soft ping reverberates throughout the spaceside officetel. Lu Han hums at the sound of his orders being reciprocated. He always liked the sound of those pings. Proves something is being done or will soon be accomplished, all’s right to the order of his day, despite the fact he will not be getting his caffeine stimulant right on the dot as he prefers.

 _Five mins_ , chants his internet clock. Lu Han stretches once and makes his way to his desk. Stacks and stacks of foldable trays and microtablets cycle through like a kaleidoscopic ferris wheel, revealing just the one he wants.

“Excellent. Alrighty, Kyungsoo. What’s on the agenda for today?”

His colleague and subordinate snorts.

“You’re not even going to wait for your _brew_? How industrial of you.”

Lu Han frowns. “Well, someone, I won’t say who”—he stares meaningfully at the cyborg—"has been reminding me day after day that in fact, I don’t actually _need_ the brew to survive and that I really should be more concerned with the progress reports he has been forwarding to the bosses, so _no_ , Kyungsoo, I don’t think I will wait.”

The cyborg makes his closest approximation to a full body laugh: his shoulders, shrug. His smile grows long. His left eye, one of the few cosmetically intact organs leftover from his original body, glimmers. Most of his form has been recreated in the approximation of a human body after a spacecraft landing accident fifteen years ago. A few prominent metal parts remain, especially around his face just for the aesthetic.

“Shall we cut the mischief this morning,” says Lu Han without real bite. “Who’s our first appointment?”

Kyungsoo, still smiling, looks down at his tablet. “Two applicants from the Exo quadrant. They are waiting outside. Hold on one second.” He prods the device, frustrated with its slow startup, and Lu Han sighs again, staring at his matching device. The agency really has given them hand-me-downs for technology. The tablets are already one week old, and hopelessly out of date, yet another proof that the higher-ups are more invested in the nanotechs of their beloved planetary sports teams than with the working equipment of the Office of Transhuman Migration.

“There you are,” says Kyungsoo finally. A whole three seconds have passed.

The applicants’ profiles project suddenly up from his tablet. Lu Han squints and leans into the projection.

“Kim Jongdae, 45 years after standard planetary conversion rates. Including time dilation, I’d say his calculations are actually wrong. Probably around 53. Still young, for a chimera. His specs on that, however, were not submitted before boarding. He’ll need to be cross-examined. Occupation, unknown. Let’s look at his companion.”

Lu Han waves the projection down with a swipe of his finger, squints again at the new image and then… gasps.

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Been waiting for you to get to this one.”

Lu Han reads the new profile aloud, slower than before.

“Park Chanyeol, 70 years. Biotechnologist. Reason for visit: _leisure_. Now that I absolutely do not buy. Kyungsoo, do we interview him first or alert the authorities?”

“According to Handbook, section 429.33 column 27, the applicant is considered immensely dangerous and a threat to the social and ecological well being of our entire planetary system, possibly the neighboring one as well, and requiring us to alert the authorities almost immediately.”

“Let’s do the interview,” says Lu Han, not missing a beat. “I mean… what do you think?”

The cyborg actually turns in his desk chair, his cybernetic face poised in a frown, the proper image of a musing entity. “I think… we never get any fun around here. Let’s do the interview.”

“Right. Glad you agree. Is it time? Jongin, will you open the gate and escort our applicants inside?”

Another ping echoes around the officetel. A moment after that the _brew_ machine pings as well, and Lu Han sighs. It’s the start of a beautiful morning.

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol straightens his tie before entering the officetel. It’s in the shape of a star and electric blue, his tie, not the office.

“Quit fidgeting,” says Jongdae, fidgeting with the sleeves of his robe.

Chanyeol smiles. “Take a deep breath, we’ll be fine. They’re taking the time to actually see us, so I’d say there’s hope.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “We came all this way, and it’s bad enough that, well…” He holds out his arms in front of himself, palms facing up, and Chanyeol has to look away before he can become enamored by the soft glowing gleam which is Jongdae’s skin tone.

The wall in front of them opens before Chanyeol can reply, briefly dematerializing so they can step inside. He plasters on his best smile, clears his throat and walks on in. Jongdae follows right behind, and the wall materializes closed behind them.

“Applicant Park, Applicant Kim, please have a seat,” says a soft voice which reverberates around the room. Chanyeol squints at the two officials seated opposite them, for neither of their mouths have moved. Chanyeol looks around, humming when he spots the K.A.I. stationed just behind the men. It stands dormant for the moment, voice activation only alive via the office computer's speaker. 

“Thank you,” says Chanyeol, sitting down with a flourish. Jongdae sits beside him, eyes lowered and his palms covered by his robe. He keeps his hood on so that only a portion of his face and neck are visible.

“Thank you,” repeats the chimera. A soft ping echoes around the room, causing one of the officials to frown.

“Jongin, are you flirting with the applicants?”

The cyborg next to him rolls a single eye, as the K.A.I. pings once again, even softer.  “Lu Han? Shall we begin? Applicants, will you please transfer your remaining specs?”

They do so, and the man called Lu Han affects an irritated smirk. He wipes it clean though the next second before fixing a gaze first on Chanyeol, then on Jongdae. His initial reaction is commonplace; Chanyeol has seen it before, so often in fact that he barely needs to remind himself how Jongdae appears before strangers. On file at least, Jongdae is merely a citizen of the Exo quadrant, a federation of planets with—compared to this system—looser ethics with regards to the implementation of biotechnology. When pressed about Jongdae’s specific family specifications, however…

The official immediately looks down at the projection, as silence fills the room. “Kim Jongdae. Are you or are you not a chimera with 0.452% embryonic integration from a family line developed from… cuttlefish?!”

Lu Han’s eyes are practically bugging out of his skull and he’s looking at anything _but_ Jongdae. Chanyeol smirks. It’s the normal fight or flight response for a race which not only considers itself _pure_ despite generations of genetic manipulation, but for one which is also immensely susceptible to Jongdae’s unique attractions.

Chanyeol laughs, noting that even the cyborg is considering Jongdae _very_ warily.

“No need for alarm,” he says, trying to be reassuring. “Most of that peculiar code has been tempered over a few generations.”

“So it’s recessive?” asks the cyborg.

“Mostly,” Jongdae answers for himself. He moves to raise his arms and both Lu Han and the cyborg twitch in their chairs.

Chanyeol, still smirking, remembers thinking the exact same thing when he first met Jongdae as a client. It’s been ten generations since his family line were genetically modified with the hypnotic element that made them such great mercenaries. Fortunately for the migration officials today, it’s been four generations since the gene was nurtured. Jongdae retains the quick camouflaging skin coloration and some of the hypnotic effect, though he’s unlikely to strike someone dead in a panic than he is to simply unnerve them.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” says Lu Han, addressing Jongdae and still not looking at his person, “according to your file, you are catalogued as male-intersex, but with no natural ability to reproduce?”

“That is correct.”

“Then you can reproduce only through embryonic implementation with another parent cell?”

Again Jongdae nods. “Correct.”

“Right. Then to enter into this system you’ll have to sign this form… here… verifying you are _not_ here for either research and/or to collect any environmental or biological sample originating in this sector for your personal or experimental usage. Will you sign?”

Jongdae hesitates, and here Chanyeol takes over, since he’s been expecting it. He leans across the desk and blasts the two officials with his best smile. “You do realize this is discrimination?”

Lu Han narrows his eyes. “If you want a referral to the Ethical Council for Transhumanist Reproduction, I can get it for you, right after you are escorted from the premises and placed on a ship back to the Exo quadrant. Exceptions have been made, and indeed are made daily, for chimeras such as him, provided they—”

Chanyeol interrupts him. “You mean as long as they don’t pollute your race or take any biological part of it home to make bastard chimera babies?”

Lu Han visibly gulps. The cyborg narrows one eye. It’s increasingly intimidating but Chanyeol refuses to acknowledge it.

“Shall we talk about you then, Park Chanyeol?” says the cyborg.

Chanyeol grins. “Oh, shall we?”

“You’re a biotechnologist specializing in fields which are illegal outside of your quadrant.”

“I have been told this, yes.”

“You are theoretically forbidden to enter into this sector of space.”

“Yet you are talking to me.”

Jongdae sighs as if he’s bored and shifts imperceptibly in his chair. Both Lu Han and the cyborg flinch, again, leading Chanyeol to estimate that the cyborg possesses a fully functional, human brain, one which might be affected by the chimera’s abilities. And if that is the case, then he can also be affected by Chanyeol’s charm.

Before anyone can speak, however, another soft ping reverberates throughout the room.

Lu Han sighs and looks at his desk. “Yes, Jongin?”

“Permission to enter the K.A.I.?”

The official huffs and says, “Like you ever asked before. Yes, Jongin.”

Chanyeol watches amusedly as the android shell comes to life behind the two seated officials. Technically speaking, this Kinetic AI is an older module. Chanyeol’s lab back at home is equipped with much more sophisticated technology, and yet the K.A.I. here hits him with a wave of nostalgia. These K.A.I.’s were always a little more charming, more independent, achieving higher levels of sass.

“I wanted to see the chimera,” says Jongin.

Lu Han’s eyebrows raise, but he throws up his arms in defeat. “See away. Better you than me anyway.”

Nobody looks at Jongdae while Jongin performs his visual exam, although the greenish glow of the chimera’s skin suddenly changes to awash the room in dull grey-green glowing waves.

“Satisfied, now?” Jongdae asks. And Jongin nods.

“He is… curiously pretty.”

Lu Han snorts. Chanyeol preens, satisfied because after all, Jongdae is part his creation. The cyborg does his typical eye roll. New data appears on Lu Han’s projection as the details of Jongin’s analysis filter through.

“He still needs to sign the form,” reminds the cyborg.

“Ah, and I thought we were going to talk about me,” says Chanyeol. “By the way, I never caught your name?” He leans towards the cyborg who answers almost immediately.

“It’s Kyungsoo. Please remain on topic. Are you able to persuade Kim Jongdae to sign the form?”

“I am not able. He is his own person.”

“As I thought. Then can you verify that you are not here to assist him in any form of biological reproduction, or that you are not here for some other nefarious research?”

Chanyeol grins. “Ahh, must I sign?”

“Yes.”

Lu Han drums his fingers, bored, then reaches for the brewed stimulant. A strange, sweet smell emerges from the cup, Chanyeol inhaling reverently. He changes tactics.

“So, Lu Han. How many of your genes are heritable?”

The official freezes, his cup halfway to his mouth.

“I’m sorry?” He puts down the cup.

“Just making a guess, but your face and body… do you receive yearly nanotech injections? Definitely cosmetic, and I’m assuming internal as well? Right no, it’s probably every decade now that you get that done.”

Lu Han’s jaw falls slack.

Chanyeol continues. “I bet your lifespan has been maxed to around… two hundred and fifty years. Maybe three hundred?”

Lu Han continues to blink. “What?”

“How about genetic error, DNA mutations? Have you ever heard of cancer?”

“Heard of… what is that?”

“Exactly.” Chanyeol hums, relatively pleased with himself. Jongdae, however, is frowning.

Lu Han sits forward in his desk, arms splayed out flat and he’s ignoring the file projection completely. “Look here, Applicant Park. _I_ do the interviewing here, not you. And you are now very close to receiving an automatic rejection into this star system, not just because your profession in experimental biotechnology is illegal here, but because you are, plainly put, annoying me.”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Just stating a few facts.”

“Oh really, and what are those?”

He snorts. Jongdae puts his robed hand loosely over Chanyeol’s, but Chanyeol goes on anyways. He meets Lu Han’s eyes dead on.  “Your society calls itself pure because it doesn’t dabble in the non-human or alien elements, but you have no standard of critique when it comes to your own reliance on physiological improvements based on nanotechnology, gene editing, bionics, cybernetics, or even artificial intelligence, just to name a few.” He stares between the cyborg and the android.

“What I’m trying to say,” Chanyeol continues, “is that your methods for defining ‘humanity’ are backwards and at odds with your own ‘posthuman’ society. Meanwhile my client here, is dying from a very rare genetic disease found in, yes, cuttlefish, which was determined for him generations even before he was born. Now, please, let us enter your precious little corner of space that I may help save him?”

  


 

It’s five hours later that Lu Han and Kyungsoo are still sitting around, pondering their earlier encounter. Countless applicants have come and gone, either permitted entry or denied, and yet they sit silently throughout their break reminiscing mainly about the chimera and his doctor.

“That was weird, right? It was weird, wasn’t it? Kyungsoo, aren’t you going to agree with me?”

The cyborg blinks slowly. “It definitely was. What do you think he even meant? It’s not like I had a choice to strap my brain into this body. I would have died otherwise.”

“Right? And what was that bit about my face?”

Kyungsoo has no answer to that.

Meanwhile, the K.A.I. currently enjoying his freedom moving about the office on two android legs, begins to hum. Lu Han privately reflects that this isn’t nearly as pleasant as his pings, but maybe he won’t mute him just yet.

“What is it Jongin?” asks the cyborg, almost bored.

Jongin smiles, and it’s so humanly lifelike, flawless skin and hair, and dressed up in a cute little suit, that Lu Han forgets for a moment that Jongin’s actually a machine who spends most of his time in the matrix that is their computer server, when he’s not activated in the ‘body’.

“Oh nothing,” says the K.A.I. “Just thought perhaps I should tell you because I have only now completed the research on this, but there is no genetic defect found today in cuttlefish. That species was nearly perfected centuries ago, just like the human race.”

Lu Han frowns. The cyborg blinks.

“So, you are saying… Applicants Kim and Park actually lied to us?”

“Yes.”

“They lied to us about their intentions here, and now we have given them a full access pass to the system?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly Kyungsoo fixates on the android, every portion of his bionic face shifting into a frown. “Jongin?”

“Yes?”

“What percentage are your functioning capabilities working at, right now?”

The android freezes, looking deceptively pleasant. He always was bad at lying. “98% if I can be allowed a small margin of error. Perhaps I should confess?”

Kyungsoo narrows his one good eye. “Yes, I think you should.”

“I knew that bit of information about the cuttlefish before you made up your minds, but don’t you think Chanyeol and Jongdae were _very nice guys_?”

 


End file.
